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by princegrantaire



Category: The Libertines
Genre: Cats, Comedy, Drabble Collection, F/M, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrantaire/pseuds/princegrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a bunch of drabbles about cats through the years (the good old days till present day).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“There was a cat in the cupboard this morning, you know,” Carl says, as matter-of-factly as he can.

“No, there wasn’t,” comes the immediate reply from Peter, who seems to be entirely engrossed in some cheap paperback he got two days ago.

“It jumped on my face,” Carl says and he’s slightly worried when he can’t control the annoyed tint in his tone.

Peter hums in reply and Carl nearly screams. He’s not even allergic to cats, he’s spent more than half his life surrounded by them, a cat in a cupboard is hardly the end of the world but he’s not entirely sure he can go on like this. It’s making him oddly paranoid, the whole cats at every corner thing.

They’re both huddled under the filmsy blanket he’s pretty sure Peter stole from Wolfman last year, Pete’s feet sticking out at the bottom and presenting his mismatched socks. For once in his life Carl’s quite glad he’s short enough to keep himself warm in these conditions. It’s worryingly domestic and all Pete needs is a pair of reading glasses to complete the scene.

Carl is almost comfortable enough to try to drift off to sleep, the candles Peter lit earlier hardly doing anything to deter him, when he notices Pete’s whispering something. Not to him, that much is clear, but it instantly makes Carl curious. His suspicions are confirmed the moment he turns around: Peter is petting their two cats and seemingly congratulating them for something.

“So you did put one of them in the cupboard!” Carl shouts suddenly, startling himself.

“Maybe.”

Peter smiles and pulls Carl closer, pressing a brief kiss to his forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Peter asks for “ _time alone with the cats_ ” Carl doesn’t say anything, passes it off as one of Pete’s many quirks and makes himself scarce for about two hours. The third time it’s when he classifies it as officially weird.

Several weeks pass without an incident and Carl starts to think  the problem’s solved itself and finally stops paying too much attention to every little thing Peter does, from the incessant typing on his beat-up typewriter to the weird stares he gives Carl every time tries to play with the cats.

Then comes the inevitable fourth request for time alone and Carl quickly comes up with a plan. He sneaks back in after twenty minutes (surprisingly easy to do when the only entry way is a permanently open window) and finds Peter sitting on the mattress with his back to the window and loudly singing what seems to be a slightly altered version of “ _Wonderwall_ ” to a rapt audience of cats.

Carl watches for a moment, enthralled and only wakes up from his stupor when he realizes there are definitely more cats here than they own. After a few moments Peter switches to “ _I Won’t Share You_ ” by The Smiths and Carl can’t quite help laughing.

Peter’s guitar makes a rather dreadful sound as he suddenly stops playing and turns to glare at Carl.

“Stop laughing! They were stressed, Carl, I had to do _something_!”

“Half of these aren’t even ours!” Carl points out and decidedly doesn’t stop laughing.


	3. present day

Peter hasn’t exactly lost the concept of home, merely misplaced it somewhere along the way. Spending so much time on the road hasn’t exactly helped his case and “home” is unfortunately an image of the grimy Albion Rooms from a lifetime ago.

Carl has his family to get back to and Peter doesn’t know what _he_ has. A camper van and a cottage full of cats in some little French village whose name he forgets more often than not. Even so, he can’t remember the last time he wanted more than that and it’s only recently that some misguided sense of longing has started affecting him. Now, at the end of their tour, it’s worse than ever.

That’s, in hindsight, probably why he lets out a shocked gasp when he opens the door to said cottage and finds…nothing. Sure, the furniture is all there, so are the collages and the posters and the thousand little knick-knacks he’s acquired over the years, but the place is utterly devoid of life.

Peter calls out every cat’s name he can think of for at least an hour, he meows and he leaves treats and he shouts threats but to no avail. A call to his latest catsitter/friend-forced-into-taking-care-of-his-cats gives him no clues and a heady feeling of disappointment slowly washes over him.

“So it has come to this,” he says, to no one in particular, as he trudges up the stairs. It looks like he’ll have to go all the way to London and steal Carl’s new kittens, possibly leave a note saying nothing else could soothe him. Carl would surely forgive him.

Once he’s upstairs, he doesn’t make it to the bedroom, merely collapses in the hallway and lets the tears he’d feared from the beginning fall. That’s when Peter feels something soft and warm gently headbutt him and he slowly raises his head to the surprise of the fifteen cats now surrounding him.

Half an hour later they’re all settled in bed and Peter takes the time to kiss every one of the cats goodnight. Surrounded by warmth and love, it occurs to him he’s finally home.


	4. present day, a different take

“Carl…Carl, you know what you need? A cat,” Peter says, stretching in a curiously feline way, maybe to prove his point, as he sits up.

It’s about 4 AM and they’re sitting, lounging really, in Carl’s bedroom among glasses and cigarette butts. Peter’s suggestion is jarring enough to make Carl look up from the mountain of pillows he’s practically buried in, where he has been steadily falling asleep since they gave up any attempts at songwriting half an hour ago.

“I already have two?” Carl slurs. He suddenly goes wide-eyed as he’s struck with the sudden fear that he’s imagined the two grey cats that have been the bane of his existence for months now.

Edie is on tour with Lock, which is really the only reason Peter seems to have taken permanent residence in Carl’s house. The Libertines are supposed to be working on their next album but Carl needs to take care of the kids, the cats and the house so flying off to some exotic location isn’t an option this time, which is just as well because he’s starting to suspect Peter has gotten a bit tired of travelling.

“Yeah but that’s not enough,” Peter, who has certainly not gotten tired of needlessly collecting small pets, says.

Carl makes a noncommittal sort of sound and immediately falls asleep. Family life has slowly chipped away at his endurance for late nights and debauchery. Maybe it’s for the best.

-

Carl suddenly sits up at 8:40 and blearily glares at his phone. His alarm has been going off for about an hour in intervals of five minutes. Peter is soundly asleep somewhere on the floor and at this point very little seems capable of disturbing him.

Carl wakes the kids up too and helps them get dressed then makes breakfast, all without being too aware of his surroundings. It’s all part of a routine he’s gotten used to years ago and he only stops to think when he’s about to feed the cats and notices four bowls instead of two. That’s strange.

While he’s questioning who exactly is playing a prank on him (and all current residents of the house quickly become suspects), he notices four cats have made their way into the kitchen.

He looks to the hallway where Eli is putting some crayons in Ramone’s backpack and then back to the mysterious cats. Carl repeats the motion twice more before shrugging. They’re already late enough as it is.

-

When Carl gets home after dropping Eli off at school and Ramone at Lucie’s, a small white fluffy puppy greets him at the door. He just stares at it, completely baffled.

“Peter!”

With the kids gone, Peter remains the only suspect. This has happened before, back when they used to live together in the Albion Rooms. Peter used to bring home kittens he’d randomly found on the street even though they could barely afford to take care of themselves. Times have changed and Peter has apparently expanded his repertoire.

Carl has to walk through the entire house until he finally finds Peter in the garden, where he’s struggling to put up a tent that Carl’s never even seen before. He stays there in the doorway for a second, just taking in the scene, when he notices a little bunny emerging from the tent.

It should be hilarious. Peter is wearing Carl’s dressing gown and what looks like one of those shirts he can’t quite button up anymore but no trousers. More bunnies make their way to the front of the tent, where Peter is still in the middle of a fight with one of the tent poles. Carl can’t even laugh, it’s all too shocking.

“You’re home!” Peter exclaims when he’s done with the tent. He hugs Carl tightly, as if he hasn’t seen him in years.

“Um, how many rabbits are there?”

“What rabbits?” Peter asks as he steps away.

Carl screams and charges at Peter. In hindsight it occurs to him, as they’re lying on the soft wet grass and being slowly covered by bunnies, that it’s not an entirely rational reaction.

“Your house is just so big, Carlos! I couldn’t resist! Can we keep them?”

Carl sighs and nods. At least the kids are going to be overjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my tumblr @actualcarlbarat


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